Monster Deep Inside
by 666CrescentMoonDemon666
Summary: Soundwave is as loyal a follower as Decepticons come, but sometimes even he needs to be reminded of why Megatron is the one in command. Transformers Prime, TFP one-shot, SW/M


_"Beware a silent dog and still waters."_

– Roman Proverb

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere deep inside,<br>Down beneath the hide,  
>Where soul and Spark have died.<br>I know my darker side._

* * *

><p>There was the sound of roaring.<p>

A trembling drone that shook the _Nemesis_ at its core, but it was not through weather or damage that the mighty warship had taken on such a painful and hostile demeanor. No, it went deeper than that. Deeper than the oscillation of impassioned turbines and the ferocious red sparks of energy zapping from wire to wire. There was something else. Something more.

Somewhere deep inside, a mech stood, unmoving and alone. The silence was profound, deafening and magnificent. Solitude: thick and hot as molten lead, yet as cold as the frigid depths of empty space. To him, the silence was freedom. The silence was release.

_The silence was Hell._

For within the yawning depths of stillness, insanity lurked beneath the surface.

It was everywhere. In everything. In all that he saw and felt and heard. Unleashed through the perpetual quiet of the _Nemesis_, the shadow came forward from the deepest, darkest recesses of his processor to reek its revenge upon the mind which imprisoned it. For that vengeance, it took every notion of dread, every lingering doubt, and every hope and belief as to the ultimate aspirations of his master, and twisted them into macabre and lurid fantasies so gruesome and profound that not even a single one of them could possibly hope to reach fruition.

That silence encroached upon him like a dead sea. Pushing and pulling; consuming, enveloping. Even as the roaring drew its shrieking claws across the fathomless maw of its brother, this unassuming, halcyon _beast_, in a victoryless brawl to the death, the seraphic tune fell upon deaf ears. For Soundwave was loathe to hear a sound—a madness—which was already inside his head.

* * *

><p><em>Black face and hollow eyes;<br>It's truth within these lies,  
>For death and evil ties,<br>My Spark, for thee, thus dies._

* * *

><p>"Something on your mind, Soundwave?" came the deep, heralding voice of the mech's lord and master.<p>

Drawn to the control room by the disturbance which plagued his ship, Megatron knew all too well the source of the upheaval. Truth be told, the Mighty Lord of the Decepticons was the only bot in existence, other than Soundwave himself, who knew the truth behind the spasmodic uproars which occasionally rose up from the innards of the _Nemesis_ for no obvious reason.

The hydraulic door hissed shut behind him, and Megatron only needed to see the monitor screen blip offline to know that Soundwave had been watching the recording of Starscream's latest act of mutiny—_again_. It hadn't been much of an event, really: Starscream had merely tucked afterburners and flown away in the middle of a fight with the Autobots, abandoning Megatron and a few Vehicons to fend for themselves. Of course, the treacherous Seeker had gotten his comeuppance upon Megatron's return. It was just another drop in the bucket to Megatron, but the matter was being handled far differently by his loyal intelligence officer, Soundwave. Soundwave never reacted well to any of Starscream's plots and betrayals, but it seemed that this last occurrence had acted as the final crossing of the line between what the mech was willing to keep quiet about.

There were very few bots that knew much of anything about Soundwave. Fewer still that were aware he was anything more than the blank circuit board of basic programming and utter obedience that he appeared to be. In fact, Soundwave was far more complex a being than simply the average Cybertronian. It showed in his incomparable skill as a spy and intelligence gatherer compounded on by a knowledge and understanding of complex data systems so expansive, it rivaled Megatron's own.

There was but one single vice which plagued this seemingly immaculate specimen of Decepticon: an introvert mental aberration which had plagued Megatron's prided intelligence officer since he was Sparked. Though, it was mild and most of the damaged data streams had long since been purged to prevent the condition from worsening, it was clear that not all of the problem had been removed; some of it had to stay behind in order to prevent major damage to his processor. While what remained was not enough to inhibit his duties as a vital asset to the Decepticon forces, it was more than was necessary to haunt his every waking circuit with acrid, acidic darkness and malice and depravity until it became like a second being entirely.

There was more than just Soundwave in the dark depths of that processor, Megatron knew. Something else lurked in there. Something more. More than just the obscure functions and data networks of a deathly silent mech. It was darker, eviler than even Megatron could imagine—_monstrous_. And that was precisely what had drawn him to Soundwave in the first place.

Megatron came to a halt scant inches from his most loyal follower. Soundwave's blue-violet presence—sleek, compact, and glistening with its own violet luminescence—registered like a flood of coolant to his (Seeker-)agitated programming, even as the ship rumbled and groaned around them like a malfunctioning Terrorcon. Standing front to front, Megatron _pressed_ his hulking body into Soundwave without actually touching him and peered down into the gleaming black facial screen of the smaller mech, reading his silence with eons of practiced ease.

"You are troubled," Megatron rumbled, "and it's affecting my ship."

Soundwave craned his cervical supports up.

For that single instant of voice, of speech, Megatron had undone the darkness, the silence, the Hell; had shattered its hold on Soundwave's mind and reignited the glimmer of a calmer, simpler world. It made something clench internally, quick and uncomfortable yet somehow thrilling. Soundwave's frame began to vibrate ever-so-slightly, and his silent perdition started to unravel. Something like an itch came forward from the back of his processor: a tick that jerked suddenly on a cluster of hydraulics and made his cervical armor twitch. Megatron recognized the slip even if Soundwave did not; he had seen it before, and he knew well what it implied.

Soundwave did not deny the fault. He knew he had caused the disturbance in the _Nemesis's_ frame. His moods seemed to have that affect on the warship.

"Why?" It was an order, not a question.

Soundwave's facial screen displayed the pattern of a vocal recording while replaying Starscream's shrill voice, _"—Megatron is but an incompetent fool compared to _my_ greatness! I, the glorious Starscream, should be the rightful Lord of all Decepticons, not that imbecilic scrapheap . . . !"_

"I see. So, Starscream still thinks he has what it takes to surpass me as leader of the Decepticons." The thought was amusing enough to bring a smile to Megatron's face, and he clenched one servo into a ball with decided resolve. Putting the unruly Seeker in his place was beginning to become like a sport to the Decepticon lord. He certainly did it often enough. "Well, then, I'll just have to find a more effective means of eradicating that thought from his programming."

Megatron chuckled at the idea of punishing Starscream for being the insubordinate fragger that he was. Even if the Seeker had been radically pushing the limit of his worth as of late, Megatron still managed to find use for him (relative inefficiency aside) in missions too degrading even for the Vehicons or by simply viewing his second-in-command as a source of entertainment—due to a recent surplus of humiliating blunders and disastrous attempts at knocking Megatron from his throne. Still, as amusing as it was to utterly disembowel each of Starscream's would-be plots to overthrow him, Megatron understood that soon he was going to have to put a stop to the Seeker's transgressions indefinitely or offline the fragger outright—_before_ he got lucky.

Still, when Megatron returned his attention to Soundwave, the spybot's condition had not changed. The assurance he required had not yet been met; the _Nemesis_ was still trembling, still roaring.

But Megatron was wise to this side of Soundwave. A side that he and he alone could lay witness to, for he had met it many times in the distant past and up until now in far more recent cycles.

Yes, Megatron knew what his most loyal disciple needed. Not through any means of emotional connection, circuit bonding, or anything of the like—no, there was no room for _that_ among the Decepticons—but due solely to experience and prior knowledge of the silent mech's . . . _requisites_.

Soundwave needed more than to simply be told that Megatron was in control. The information he required could not be gathered through the mere discharge of vocal processes. It was too important, too imperative that it be known to be worthy of any mere words: he needed to be _shown_ Megatron still had command—through the affirmation of the very power it took to be in control of the Decepticons. Because that had yet to be done, the fact remained: Megatron's ability to lead was being put in jeopardy; Soundwave needed to know he was capable of doing something about it.

"Of course, I understand that verbal exchanges are not your forte, Soundwave," Megatron said, vocals dipping into lower, sinister levels.

Megatron snatched hold of the base of Soundwave's facial screen and drew it up, expanding the seams between every ridge of black-violet armor and exposing the critical energon veins hidden underneath. A clawed digit dropped down one such vein and followed it at its length, and the reaction it earned him was anything but the reticent Decepticon Soundwave had for so long been portrayed as: a jerk of immediate, sudden upheaval, decidedly catlike in only the nanocycle it took to end, and the purple flicker of a sound pattern flashing across his black screen.

"So show me what it is you need," Megatron growled lowly, discharging a soft cloud of warm vapor to fog his blank screen.

The warm, buzzing touch of clawed servos sent a thrill of electricity through Soundwave's frame, igniting the blue-violet glow of luminescence which pigmented his exostructure, and impulse-driven circuitry led both servos to grab hold of the spiky extrusions of Megatron's armor before he could compute otherwise. A bold move considering who he was touching, but Megatron didn't mind, and his greedy, restless return (of snaking one servo around to pry loose a few key pieces of armor, exposing sensitive wires to the cold, open air, and doing something entirely unimaginable with the pulsating seams and cables located underneath) proved it.

A glimmer of something new reared its head in that instant. Soundwave's system hydraulics clenched all over his body in the surfacing of some unfamiliar being, and he gripped down so hard on the portion of Megatron's armor that it began to buckle and groan. Megatron felt the pain in his circuits and stopped the damage immediately when a servo shot up and locked around Soundwave's throat, growling. The message was clear:

_There will be none of _that_ from you._

Autonomy be slagged. Soundwave had a thing for control—thrived in it, needed it—even if it wasn't his. Without it, he was one servo glitch away from initiating a total system failure. It didn't matter what form it came in, either—from stasis cuffs in private quarters to the vicious slams of his body being wrenched into a wall, sprawled out over control panels, or pinned atop a recharging berth—so long as Megatron was the one to provide it.

Megatron knew that, and he was usually more than willing to oblige.

* * *

><p><em>This monster deep within,<br>Down beneath the skin,  
>For thee, my King, I sin,<br>And the darkness deep within._

* * *

><p>As a general rule, interfacing was quick, jarring, intense, and happened often.<p>

Draped over the control bay, wing plates obscuring most of the electronic functions from view, Soundwave's exhaust vents virtually purred under the force of Megatron's command. Head dipped back, straining under the shriek of talons carving through his exostructure, vicious scratches left behind as if to mark the metal as his own. Electricity snapped hot and quick between their grinding bodies, filling in the voids in every seam and joint where scraping metal frames connected.

Soundwave's hands shot out as a pre-overload surge rippled through his system. One took a crippling hold on Megatron's forearm plating and actually bent the corner back, while the other dragged a few good gashes down the length of his arm cannon. Megatron was too overrun with surges of liquid pleasure to notice the pain, far more taken with the smaller mech's body and _the way it handled_ to care about damage which could simply be mended later. Gruff, guttural sounds aspirated through his vocal processors and thoroughly shattered Soundwave's quiet purgatory with a brutal chorus of clanging steel, squealing talons, vibrating chassis, and hot bursts of air shuddering through cooling vents.

Merged together in the dim lighting of the control room, friction heated the air and the direct link between them, their Sparks surging with a primal glow until Megatron finally cracked the other mech's dark, silent reserve with a twisting servo and plunge through delicate wiring. Soundwave's head snapped back and arched off the console, and he emitted a shrill, electronic keen which operated at just the right frequency to make Megatron's programming glitch under a torrent of sizzling ecstasy, wrenching stiff servos into Megatron's huge arms as liquid pleasure drowned his stunned systems.

Overload swept them both within a nanocycle of each other, and the sudden and extreme burst of energy flow locked up all their circuits in an overpowering and spectacular clench, maintaining the direct link as their systems fell into steaming static and the crackle of white-noise. Minor functions shut down temporarily as drained bodies mingled at the edge of incredible euphoria, glowing with the faint sheen of coolant and the flickering violet hues of Soundwave's body. The "afterglow," as organics called it, was truer to its name among Cybertronians than with any other race; with energy remnants running laps over exposed circuitry and darting into seams and crevasses, providing both parties with a soft, scalding shine while they waited for their systems to reboot, they did indeed _glow_.

Soundwave powered back on after a couples cycles of rebooting, processor still filled with a perfect, static-filled haze and his gaskets nearly blown from the sheer intensity of overload.

Inside, the stillness—the maddening void of silence within—was gone, its place stolen by the echoes and aftermath of vicious interface. The sounds still rang like gongs in his core, and when he tuned in to hear Megatron's deep laugh reverberating through his frame, his master placed one huge, powerful servo directly over Soundwave's Spark plate and reawakened him to the knowledge that Megatron had always been, and always would be, in control. He had reaffirmed his position as rightful leader of the Decepticons in Soundwave's perspective, and Starscream's transgressions now meant absolutely nothing—not that there had ever been any doubt as to Megatron's prowess to begin with.

* * *

><p><em>Horror, here, in silence grows<br>An evil mind no one knows.  
>For thee, my King, my darkness shows,<br>Black o'er black, your sin bestows._

* * *

><p>"Ah, Soundwave," Starscream strained to say, less than pleased but not the least bit surprised by the intelligence officer's arrival into the medical bay.<p>

Knockout was just patching up the last of Starscream's damages as the door hissed open and Soundwave entered. Caused as a result of his last "meeting" with Megatron, saying that the Seeker's injuries had left him seeing better days was putting it mildly. To be blunt, he looked like Hell. Even Knockout was left wondering how it was possible for him to still be in one piece and not scrap metal. Megatron's wrath had been swift, and his retribution quite thorough.

Soundwave stopped before the pair.

Awkward vibes hung in the atmosphere surrounding the two bots like a potent miasma, as if Soundwave had caught them in the midst of yet more plotting. Even though Knockout at the very least was intelligent enough to revert his loyalties back to Megatron when their master had arisen from stasis, Starscream was still having difficulty letting go of his term of leadership; it had been a rather short-lived run, but he needed to get it through his thick processor.

What the two 'Cons had always failed to realize was the full extent in which Soundwave was able to monitor what went on within the _Nemesis's_ walls. He was the eyes and ears of the Decepticons. He knew everything that went on aboard the _Nemesis_. All about their plotting: the coups they had tried back when Megatron was mostly offlined by the Space Bridge explosion, all of Starscream's attempts to overthrow him since his awakening (like when he had tried to reanimate the deceased Skyquake), and he was especially aware of what things went on between the Seeker and the medibot when behind closed doors.

There was obvious disdain in Starscream's voice as Soundwave stood beside him on the recharging berth, "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Soundwave answered by replaying his recording of Megatron's orders: _"Go get Starscream and bring him to me. I need to have a few words with my second-in-command."_

Starscream's face twisted into a rueful grimace as the recording played. He knew immediately this was not a good sign for him, but he remained naïve enough to hope for something better. With a few groans emitting from stiff support joints, Starscream got up off the berth despite Knockout warning him to take it easy.

"Do yourself a favor and at least _try_ to stay off his bad side this time," Knockout warned, eyeing each of Starscream's precarious movements like he was going to buckle under his own weight and absolutely despising him that he was probably going to have to start all over again once Megatron was done. "I can only replace so many pieces in one solarcycle, you know."

Starscream rolled his optics at the sports car's derisive tone and grumbled unintelligible things about when _he_ was to be the leader of the Decepticons. Things would be different then. _Much_ different.

"And speaking of repairs," Knockout continued when he got a good look at Soundwave's armor. "Megatron get you for something, too, Soundwave, ol' pal?"

The intelligence operative panned his head toward the medibot, and Knockout indicated his core structure with a servo gesture.

"Looks like he went all out on you, there." He grinned, as if finding the notion humorous, "Megatron's eyes and ears get busted for something?"

Soundwave made no attempt to respond or even communicate as Starscream stole a curious side-glance to see for himself. For a second, he was shocked to see that Knockout was right. Soundwave did have some rather impressive lacerations on his stabilizers, but then he recognized their placement on his structure and how they had most likely come to be there.

Starscream had to resist the urge to purge all the data from his system.

"Let's just get this over with," he grumbled unhappily before anymore conversation could arise. He trudged to the door with a slight limp and Soundwave right behind him, both leaving Knockout to wonder if it was something he'd said.

Shortly after, in the walk to the observation deck, with Starscream trying his hardest to conceal the shocks of sudden pain created in every stride, Soundwave found himself staring at the back of the Seeker's spinal support column as blankly as ever, but deep down inside there was a hungry feeling making itself known. The inkling of a desire to know what made the Seeker tick. He was no medibot, but with the tilt of his head he couldn't help wondering if his energon still poured the same as any other Decepticon's or Autobot's might, and if not, how? Why?

Curious, he thought, and yet enticing.

Servos flexing, he turned the gears inside his arms around and around so it brought his weapons systems whispering to life, monitoring each and every wire twitch that made the Seeker's tired, biting walk. Starscream was weak. It would be so easy. One precise, well-aimed shot or run of a blade. That was all it would take. Soundwave would never get a better opportunity than now to undo the biggest pain in his master's system.

But when Starscream glanced over his marred shoulder plate to see the silent mech walking dutifully behind him, it was only to grumble and tell the spybot to walk faster and keep up with him.

Not the slightest suspicion. Foolish Seeker made it far too easy.

But the best was yet to come.

Megatron still had plans for Starscream. Good plans, exquisite plans. And not only did they include Soundwave's involvement, but depended on it, so much so that he decided it would be best to hold off on his own selfish want for getting even and leave that glory for Megatron to claim. After all, it was his right as the one true Lord of the Decepticons.

Soundwave merely made it his duty to ensure, one way or another, that for planting the seed of doubt in his mind, Starscream would get his just rewards. Because when silent dogs like Soundwave were finally let off their leashes, it was fools like Starscream that would be the first to taste the pain of their bite. And pain was so much more exquisite when one lived their days with a monster locked away inside.

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere deep inside,<br>A darkness lay in silent tide,  
>Until I can no longer hide<br>This roaring monster deep inside._


End file.
